


Just Bring Back Some Nice Reminders

by kiwiana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-15
Updated: 2009-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:31:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2128560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/kiwiana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn’t want to talk, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to share his feelings. There’s only one damned thing he wants to do – and fuck it, he can blame irrational grief if Dean flips out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Bring Back Some Nice Reminders

**Author's Note:**

> Post-pilot fic. Title is from an Amanda Palmer song. None of the Supernatural characters belong to me, or I'd be a lot richer than I am.
> 
> Originally published on LiveJournal 2009-06-15.

Sam’s feeling pretty wretched as he watches his brother drive away. There’s a part of him—and he’s not quite prepared to admit how big a part—that had hungered for the hunting lifestyle; as much as he professes to hate it, it’s in his blood. And sure, he’d told Dean he had to return home for the interview, and Jess, but the truth is, he’d yearned for his brother since the day he left for Stanford—and the memory of that day is pretty awkward, to say the least.

_When Dean had dropped him at the bus station, his jaw had been tight; no one but Sam would realise he was trying to hold back tears. Sam went to hug him; then, before he knew what he was doing, he locked lips with his brother. He probably could have argued it off as chaste—at least until he wound his long fingers into Dean’s hair. Dean had frozen for a second, then responded with a passion that had surprised them both before finally, resolutely, pushing his brother away._

_“You’ve got a bus to catch, Sammy,” he muttered, before striding away—back to his car, back to their father, back to the whole fucking lifestyle._

_Sam had just stared after him. The kiss had dragged up long suppressed, very un-brotherly feelings he’d been harbouring towards Dean, and he knew that if his big brother had asked him to stay, he would have. But Dean hadn’t asked – and so Sam had boarded the bus for Stanford, and he didn’t look back. He’d shoved all the longing for his brother in an internal drawer, and he’d slammed, bolted and padlocked it. And it had stayed very firmly shut... until Dean broke into his apartment, and sent his whole world into a tailspin._

* * *

Sam’s confused as hell by all the emotions that have been dragged up by seeing Dean again; but he’s happy with Jess, and so he’s content enough to head inside. He very firmly puts all thoughts of his brother out of his head as he opens the door and calls out Jess’ name.

There are cookies on the table, and Sam thinks how goddamn lucky he is to found a girl like Jessica Moore—a girl who’s clever, and beautiful, and funny; not to mention astute enough to have worked out before their second date not to bring up Sam’s family. He smiles to himself, and flops onto the bed.

Everything’s kind of a blur after that.

_There’s this horrible, sickening sense of déjà vu, and Sam knows with no idea how he knows that Jess’ body on the ceiling is a twisted parody of the way his mother looked when she died. He’s barely gotten a scream out when the ceiling bursts into flames, and then Dean’s there but Sam’s pretty sure he’s just imagining that because didn’t he see Dean drive away? And Dean’s saying things like “Sammy she’s gone” and “Dude, we’ve got to go NOW” but Sam doesn’t really comprehend because how can Jess be dead if she was still alive when he left? So maybe this is just another nightmare but Dean’s never appeared in these dreams before, but still this can’t be real it can’t be real it can’t be real..._

* * *

Sam’s still in a state of shock when they reach the motel. He doesn’t ask Dean where they are—in fact, he hasn’t said a word since he got in the Impala. He just follows Dean into the motel room, sits on the edge of the bed, and tries very hard to think of nothing at all. He does allow himself to wonder, briefly, why his brother got a room with one bed instead of two, but he doesn’t want to ask in case it’s that one question that causes him to break down. So he sits there, and he concentrates on letting a dull fog overtake any thoughts of fire or ceilings or Jess.

“Sammy?”

Dean’s standing in front of him, looking concerned as hell and completely unsure of what to say. He flinches as Sam meets his gaze, which makes Sam wonder just how terrible he looks—his big brother doesn’t scare easily. He bites his lip, and realises that he got it wrong. It’s not thinking that will break him; it’s Dean. Because even after all this time, there’s only one person who knows Sam Winchester inside and out – and that’s the person standing in front of him.

Dean sits down on the bed beside his brother, and awkwardly pats him on the back.

“I don’t... I’m no good at this feelings stuff, but do you need to... I dunno, talk or something?”

Sam’s eyes are wet; his brother’s attempt to help means more to him than he would have thought possible. He’s fighting pretty fucking hard to stay in control. Because he doesn’t want to talk, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to share his feelings. There’s only one damned thing he wants to do—and fuck it, he can blame irrational grief if Dean flips out. So Sam turns his head, and presses his lips to his brother’s.

* * *

Dean’s reaction isn’t at all like the last time. There’s no shock, or desperation; instead, he simply melts into his younger brother’s embrace like it’s the most natural thing in the world—and to Sam, it is. As he clutches Dean’s hair and opens his mouth to slip his tongue in, he realises that this is what’s been missing. No one else has kissed him like this, not even—  _no Sam, don’t go there, you’re not ready for that yet._

They’ve tumbled backwards onto the bed by this point. Dean wraps his arms around Sam’s waist as Sam lands on top of him, and Sam’s clinging to him like a lifeline. Sam’s hungry and passionate for his brother, and yeah, his dick’s rock-hard in his jeans right now too, but mostly this just feels like coming home after a really long, shitty vacation.

Sam kisses his way along Dean’s jaw and down his throat, before sucking and biting his collarbone. Dean moans—a deep, primal, guttural sound—and fuck, if that doesn’t make Sam tingle all over. He can feel Dean’s erection, hot and hard against his thigh—and hell, that’s almost enough to make him come right then; but Sam’s been dreaming of this for years, and he’s not about to screw it up now.

He tries to undo Dean’s shirt, but he’s on the wrong angle to work the buttons; in the end, he gives up and simply rips it off. Dean looks for a moment as though he might have something to say about that, so Sam stops him with his lips and his tongue. Dean shuts up pretty fast—or at least, he stops forming coherent words.

Sam quickly pulls his own t-shirt over his head, and sets to work on his brother’s jeans—which, thankfully, are easier than his shirt, although made slightly more difficult by the fact that Dean’s hard cock is threatening to burst the zipper open. But he gets there eventually and  _oh, sweet Jesus_ , the sight of Dean lying there, eyes half closed, naked and vulnerable—Sam can’t help himself. He slides down to the end of the bed, wraps his lips around the head of his brother’s cock, and begins to suck. Dean lets out a high-pitched whine (that he’ll later insist never happened) before he grabs at the blankets, bucking and moaning. Sam’s got one hand on Dean’s hip—keeping him anchored to stop him thrusting into the back of Sam’s throat—and the other wrapped around the base of his brother’s cock as he licks and sucks and sets out to learn what gets the best, and loudest, reaction.

He can sense when Dean’s about to come; his shallow panting picks up its pace, and his hip tightens under his brother’s hand. Sam waits until the last possible moment before pulling his head away, pinning Dean’s wrists at the same time, leaving him frantic, on the brink – and a little pissed.

“What the fuck, Sammy?” he gasps desperately.

Sam laughs. “Just shut up and trust me,” he whispers, scrambling off the bed and grabbing his jeans, grabbing a few packets of lube out of his pocket. Dean raises an eyebrow.

“Sammy, exactly how long have you been planning this?”

Sam just grins back at him. “Dean, we were taught to be prepared for any eventuality – although I doubt this was what Dad had in mind,” he adds as he saunters back to the bed and stretches out next to his brother, kissing him deeply. Dean groans and presses himself up against Sam, winding his arms around his brother’s neck and clutching him close. He doesn’t even notice what Sam’s doing with his hands until he feels Sam’s lubed-up finger circling his hole.

“Jesus... fuck,” he mutters, biting down on Sam’s shoulder.

Sam just murmurs “God, Dean,” as he slides his finger in.  _Christ_ , he didn’t know anything could feel this  _good_. He moans as he slides in another finger, and has the unbelievable pleasure of Dean begging for more.

Sam’s happy to oblige, of course, and he slides another finger in, stretching his brother out so he can take him, although he suspects this won’t be Dean’s first time with a guy; the thought makes him pretty mad, and a little jealous, because hell, Dean’s supposed to be  _his_. He yanks his fingers out just a little too quickly—eliciting a small gasp from his brother—and quickly slicks up his cock. He glances down at Dean for a moment, and sees him with eyes open, looking up at his younger brother; wanting him, loving him,  _trusting him_. And just like that, all Sam’s frustration melts away. Because fuck, it doesn’t matter that he left. What matters is that he’s back, and he’s not going anywhere.

He can’t hold back any longer; he quickly manoeuvres himself between Dean’s legs, places the head of his cock at Dean’s entrance, and slowly—excruciatingly slowly—pushes his way in. Dean moans loudly, and grabs Sam’s ass as he attempts to pull him in deeper. And hell, no matter how good he felt before, it’s  _nothing_  compared to the way he feels being buried balls-deep inside his brother, and he knows he isn’t going to last long. So he grabs Dean’s cock and strokes it, hard and rough, as he thrusts in and out, as Dean pants and moans, and cries out, “Fuck, Sammy, I’m going to come”—and it’s that last one that finally sends Sam over the edge. He comes, yelling his brother’s name, and Dean follows suit a second later, pumping hot seed all over Sam’s hand. Sam wraps his arms around his older brother, and buries his face in Dean’s neck. It’s in this, slightly sticky, position that the two fall asleep moments later.

* * *

It’s nearly dawn when Sam wakes up – not from a nightmare, for once. It takes him a minute to place the sense of contentment; then he realises that Dean’s got his arms wrapped around him. He’s worried for a second that his brother’s going to freak out in the morning... but as he tries to move, Dean tightens his grip and murmurs, “Sammy... glad you came back to me.”

Sam settles back into his brother’s embrace, and drifts back to sleep.


End file.
